Chapter 4
Why would he not settle? Weary and distressed, Sophia paced her room again with Oscar, patting him on the bottom. She pulled down the top of her nightgown and offered the fussing baby her breast again. He latched on, took a couple of sucks and then gave a milky cry of disgust.
He clearly was not hungry.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Now see what you have done,” she whispered to her crying son. But she was so tired. It was nearly time for the servants to wake. “Come,” she called without thinking about the state of her dishabille.
“I came to see if all was well.” It was Lord Jason Rose-Reid, looking deliciously mussed and sleepy. Another of his dressing gowns covering his tall, muscled frame, his hair messy and his blue eyes heavy with sleep.
“I do apologise that Oscar woke you. I am having trouble settling him. He is not hungry, or dirty or wet. He is not hot. I do not think he is cold. Nor is he feverish. I have run out of ideas.”
“Perhaps his teeth are coming in. My mama says I had teeth coming in when I was three months old. What age is he?”
“Three months old.”
“Then perhaps it is that.”
“I… Well I know that some babies get their teeth at six months. I did not know they could get them earlier.”
“Apparently. I know not much about babies, but my mother said I was gnawing on things to relieve the pain.”
“Thank you. I may have to look at ways to help him relive the pain.”
“A linen soaked in cold water for him to bite on may help.” She raised an eyebrow.
He chuckled. “My mother did not ever explain how to change the clout on the bottom of a baby. She may not even have known herself, but she did describe in great detail my teeth coming through. I screamed the house down, according to her, my father and half of the household staff. Would you like me to get a handkerchief for you to try?”
“No, I have one in that drawer, if you would not mind getting it out.”
He moved to the drawer and it was only then she remembered there were stockings and chemises in that drawer. Oh well, he had seen her in her chemise last evening.
It was then she glanced down at her son and realised her breast was still exposed. She wanted to groan, but held it in. If Lord Rose-Reid had noticed, he had been gentlemanly enough not to mention it. And she supposed he had seen her breasts before.
How very lowering.
He arrived in front of her with a wet handkerchief and touched the baby’s cheeks.
“That side feels a little warmer. It may be the warmer side where he is suffering. Sophia took over, knowing how to get Oscar to open his mouth, then sliding the wet piece of linen along his gum. He started to chew down on it and though he still grizzled a little, he seemed a lot more settled than he had been.
Lord Rose-Reid, urged her to climb back into bed and settled the baby back in her arms. Then he leaned over her and placed a delicate kiss on her lips.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Please, call me Jason.”
“I shall.”
She saw the flicker of disappointment cross his gaze when she did not offer him the same compliment—to allow him to call her Sophia.
“Good night, my lady.”
“Good night, Jason.”
Damn, she had to keep him at arms’ length. He was burrowing under her skin and the temptation to draw him into a proper kiss, to invite him to put Oscar in his makeshift crib and crawl into bed with her, had been overwhelming. But she would not do it.
She would stay strong for her son’s sake. Oscar needed her. She could not become silly over a man.
∞ ∞ ∞
Jason did not sleep for the rest of the night. He tossed and turned and considered using his hand to relieve the aching cockstand he had. But with Lady Rutherford just through the wall, it seemed like bad form to him. She may be the cause of it, but he would not sully the idea of any relationship he might have with her, by stroking himself to orgasm just yards away from her.
It was damned uncomfortable though. And when he closed his eyes, all he could see was that breast peeking out above Oscar’s crying face, tormenting him, calling to him, teasing him. That innocent babe and that beautiful breast. She had eventually realised and tucked it back inside her chemise. Thank God. But the damage to his sanity had been done.
As soon as it was a normal enough time for him to get up, he washed and dressed, then had a light breakfast. Then he headed out to the stables. He could not stay in the house with her. She was too tempting. He would never take her by force. He abhorred men who did that. But he could be charming when he wished. He was sure if he set his mind to it, he could charm the garters off Lady Rutherford.
Light footsteps behind him made him glance back. The clipped noise of the heel on the floor told him it was not a stable boy or a man. And there was only one woman likely to be in the stables. She had on her greatcoat again and the bulge at the front told him that Oscar was strapped to her front as he had been yesterday. Her bag was in her hand.
“Going somewhere?”
She leapt back from the horse she was patting with a little start. He recognised the mare as Lady Rutherford’s own horse.
“It is none of your business.”
“It is when a lady is going on a suicide mission. It is my job to protect her. Perhaps I need to hitch some horses to a carriage and head straight for Bedlam.”
“I am not fit for Bedlam, my lord. I just do not believe I should sit and wait for Mr Benson to come here with his men and kill me and my son.”
“So instead you shall ride out in the snow and allow the frost and cold to get you. Tell me, Lady Rutherford, of what are you really afraid? That you may be attracted to a man who is not old enough to be your own father? Or that you are attracted to a man at all?”
Good God, this was not holding out oats to a skittish horse. This was grabbing its reins, jumping atop it and trying to ride the damned thing.
“I do not know what you mean, my lord. I am not a prisoner here. I am free to leave if I wish.”
“You are, but I will be most perturbed when I find your body, and more importantly, Oscar’s body a few miles from here once the snow thaws. It seems rather a shame to flee those trying to murder you, only to succumb to the winter snows, giving Benson exactly what he wants, without even the danger of him ending up on the gallows.”
“Why are you so sure I shall not survive?”
“You do not have anywhere to go.”
“I do.”
“Where are you going?” Her lips tightened. He chuckled without mirth. “As I suspected. You have no plan, my lady. How can you survive without a plan? Pray, please at least assure me you took, or stole some food from the kitchen before setting off.”
Her glare was mutinous.
“I shall be fine until I get to an inn.”
“Just as you were fine until you reached Aelton Manor? My lady, if your horse had not wandered off and I had not looked out of the window just as it trotted past, you would be dead and no one would know.”
Bright tears shone in her eyes and Lady Rutherford bit her lip. He unbuttoned her greatcoat and removed the sleeping baby from the shawl wrapped around her, just as he heard more footsteps in the stable.
“Ah Reid.”
“Whitsnow, can you take Oscar inside please and give him to Maggie to look after for a few minutes?”
“Uh, yes, I suppose…” his voice trailed off as his gaze settled on the bag, then on Lady Rutherford’s teary gaze, which had not left his. Whitsnow took the child with alacrity and disappeared.
“We could have died,” she said weakly.
“You could, but you did not.”
“But Jason, what if…”
“Shhh! All is well my lady.”
“Sophia. My given name is Sophia.”
He pulled her into his embrace and she sagged against his strong body. The warmth of her small frame against his felt like a balm to his soul. He rested his cheek on the top of her head as she sniffed against his waistcoat.
She lifted her head to speak to him, but her lips were so inviting he could not help but drop his head and kiss her. She made a little noise of surprise and jerked her head back slightly. He followed and pressed his lips to hers again. This time, she lifted her hand to his cheek and accepted his kiss, opening her mouth to allow his tongue to invade.
When he walked her back to press her against the wall, there seemed to be an inevitability about it. He had sensed this almost from the moment he had plucked her from the snow. She was beautiful, vibrant, sensual and aroused him in a way no other woman ever had. Not even the courtesans who were practised in the art of seduction.
He inched her gown up enough to give her room to spread her legs as he lifted her onto his thigh.
She moaned as she began to rub herself against him. He pressed her pert bottom harder against him, so that her hip moved deliciously against his throbbing length.
“Jason,” she gasped as she pulled away from him to gulp in some air.
“God, Sophia, you are so perfect.”
“This is…”
“Right?”
“How can it be if we are not married?”
“You like it though and you are no innocent. Do you like it?”
“You know I do.” Yes, he knew she did. So why did it feel as if he was deflowering a virgin? She was rubbing herself fervently against him. “Jason, what is this. What is happening?”
He blanched. “You have not experienced this with your husband?”
“It feels strange.”
“Shh, keep going. You shall enjoy it. I promise you.” He caught her lips in another searing kiss, in the hopes of distracting her and stopping her worrying. In the hope that she would be so caught up that she could let herself go. He tugged down her gown and chemise and cupped her breast. He was gentle, not knowing if she would like his touch when she was feeding the babe but she moaned her pleasure again into his mouth and he had to stop himself from smiling. She was so responsive.
His cock was hard, pressing at the fall of his breeches to be released and much as he wanted to, he could not. This was for her. Pleasure pulsed through him at the mere idea of her stroking him in time to her own thrusts. The woman in his arms was nearing her peak. He thrust his own hips, to give them both more friction. If he spilled in his breeches, so be it.
“Jason. Oh Jason. What…? Oh… O-o-o-h!” She ground herself hard against him, clinging to him. It was then he realised his hand at her breast was also damp.
Well that had never happened to him before. But then he had never bedded a nursing mother before. He grinned as he held her trembling body. He was not sure who was more surprised in this moment, Sophia over having just had her first orgasm or himself over having breast milk on his hand. It looked like, if this sweet woman ever allowed him into her bed, then her breasts would be off limits until Oscar was eating solids.
Sophia clung to him, her breathing ragged, her hips still rocking slightly as she burrowed her face into his waistcoat.
“That was not very ladylike,” she managed eventually.
“I never claimed to be a lady,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. She tapped him on the chest and giggled.
“You know what I mean, my lord.”
“If it is any consolation, I thought you looked beautiful during your orgasm.”
“Is that what that was?”
“It was. So I was correct in my assumption that you have not had one before?”
“No. Should I?”
“I do hate to speak ill of the dead, my dear, but you late husband has been very remiss. You should experience that every time you make love. You did make love more than once, did you not?”
“Twice a week.”
“Twice a week?”
“Yes. On Tuesday and Saturday nights.”
“Never on the spur of the moment, just because you felt like it?”
“Um, well that happened twice.”
“How long were you married?”
“Four years.”
“And you had sex twice a week?”
“Well, not when I had my courses.”
“Obviously not.”
“That would be messy.”
“Are your courses regular?”
“Very.”
“Well thank heavens for that. You would not wish to mess with the schedule.”
She stood back a little and he removed his knee from between her legs. He felt suddenly a little bereft.
“My lord, are you making fun of me.”
“Not of you, Sophia. Never of you.”
“Then of my late husband.”
“Perhaps a little.”
“That is unkind.”
“It is unkind to be married to a woman for four years, take pleasure from her body and never give it in return.”
“I got pleasure.”
“Not proper pleasure.”
“I did not need an orgasm,” she said haughtily.
“And yet, you came apart in my arms so easily.”
Sophia pursed her lips and adjusted her clothing.
“You are a brute. This was a mistake. I must have momentarily lost my mind.”
“You did. You lost it because you were lusting after a real man, Sophia.”
“That is it. I am leaving.” She stormed around him as he wiped his hand on some hay and fastened his greatcoat to hide the bulge in his breeches.
“And you and your baby shall still die of cold. The circumstances have not changed because you found sexual satisfaction in my arms. Stop being a ninny and get back in the house. I came out here to do something manual to deal with my sexual frustration. Now nothing short of sinking into you is going to deal with that curse. Come, let us go and have tea with Whitsnow. It shall soon be lunch time.”
“You are a brute,” she repeated.
“So you said.” He walked over to her and kissed her gently. “But you still like my kisses and my orgasms, so you shall stay until the thaw at least.”
She narrowed her eyes at him then lifted her skirts and stormed back to the house.
Jason watched her pert little backside in the oversized great coat and felt a sense of satisfaction. He liked her. He could more than like her given half a chance. And he would enjoy taming that skittish horse. It seemed she liked the oats he had to offer.